


Blood Waltz

by Foxstanza



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kuroshitsuji Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parenting, Blood and Violence, Butlers, Dark, Demon Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Demon Kim Seokjin | Jin, Demon Kim Taehyung | V, Demon Park Jimin (BTS), Demons, Fantasy, Gen, Grim Reapers, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jeon Jungkook is a Brat, Kinda, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler References, Murder, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Slow To Update, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2020-10-04 00:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxstanza/pseuds/Foxstanza
Summary: “Despair,” Taehyung cackled, embracing Jungkook from behind. “It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? I forgive you for your pathetic farce from earlier, because this is priceless!”Jungkook vomited again, tears flooding his eyes.“You know what?” Taehyung whispered hungrily into his ear. “You look so delicious. I want to devour your soul so much right now. But it’s better to continue spicing and salting it until it tastes even better!”Jungkook let out a scream of frustration and pain, his vision blurring, until it was overcome by a wave of darkness.-Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and BTS AU in which Jungkook is the Earl of the Richmond household and has three rather curious servants.





	1. Chapter 1

Footsteps.

  
Why could he hear them?

  
Echoing through the hall, growing louder and louder with their approach until coming to a halt before the door.

  
He was confused.

  
Perhaps, given the circumstances, he was still half-asleep. Perhaps the footsteps were a figment of his weary mind, still in the process of getting accustomed to the morning. Perhaps he was dreaming.

  
But Jungkook knew very well.

  
Those footsteps were not supposed to be there.

  
Given the circumstances, he was supposed to be alone in his manor.

  
_Given the circumstances..._

  
His heart was thumping at an unnatural pace. The room was so silent that it was almost completely audible. The room was so silent that it betrayed the possibility of a person standing behind his door.

  
His father... was dead, right?

  
_So then..._

  
Jungkook raised his head slightly over the bed sheets, watching the door like an owl. It was good to be cautious in any situation such as this. His upper back began to ache, but he ignored the pain. He needed to clarify...

  
The latch began to move.

  
Terror coursed from his head to his toes like an electric current. Almost instinctively, Jungkook ducked back underneath the covers, gripping the underside of his pillow nervously. His heart was in his throat as he heard the door swing open with a low screech.

  
“_We need to get this thing oiled_,” his father said once. “_It’s much too loud and inconvenient for use at night_.”

  
It was only because the door would screech whenever his father tried to enter the room.

  
Especially when it would give away his motives.

  
Because Jungkook was alerted every time he began to open the door, which in turn gave him just enough time to run and hide from him.

  
But his father was dead now.

  
Jungkook kept on reminding himself that he was.

  
The footsteps came closer, muffled by the carpet. Jungkook covered his mouth, horrified that his breaths would be too loud. It was a rather thick doona, and he was a rather small boy. Normally there wouldn’t be a lump to give him away. But it had been long since he used that method to hide.

  
There came the sound of the curtains parting.

  
Jungkook watched as rays of sunlight kissed his hand, having come in through a small gap between the mattress and the covers. He winced, slowly shifting his head towards the gap to allow a glimpse of the stranger in his room. He held his breath.

  
He almost let out a noise of alarm when he made eye contact with a pair of crimson eyes.

  
“Young Master,” the stranger said pleasantly. “It’s time you awaken.”

  
Jungkook gave a grunt of protest as he felt the bed sheet being pulled off him, forcing him to come into complete contact with the sunlight and its subtle warmth. He curled up into a ball almost immediately, burying his face into his pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart racing.

  
“Young-”

  
“_No_...” Jungkook whispered frantically.

  
“Young Master, I repeat-”

  
“No!” Jungkook retorted, raising his head completely to glare at his butler, his lips pressed together in annoyance. He reached over to grab the doona, pulling it over his head. A hand grasped back at the doona to pull it off.

  
“You’re very stubborn, my Lord.”

  
“Be quiet!” Jungkook groaned, practically clinging onto it by now. “I’m tired! Let me sleep!”

  
His butler didn’t react. He watched his master with a slightly disappointed expression on his face. One of familiarity and lacking surprise. His lips parted.

  
“Young Master,” he growled. “We have gone over this before. Countless times I have scolded you for this type of conduct. For a noble, this is inappropriate and rather laughable behaviour.”

  
“I don’t care.”

  
“You should care. In fact, your head should hang in shame.”

  
“Why should I give a damn?”

  
His butler sighed, eyes filled with resolve. “I suppose I’ll have to use some force.”

  
Jungkook flinched, fists clenching with anticipation as he felt the figure loom over him. His butler slowly bent over, his eyes sparkling maliciously. His hand reached over to stroke Jungkook’s cheek, before it travelled slowly up his neck and behind his ears. He leaned forward, placing his lips near the side of his master’s head. Just his scent alone excited the butler, and he inhaled deeply, shivering with delight. There was a pause.

  
“Seokjin prepared sweets for you, my Lord.”

  
_No!_

  
Jungkook cringed.

  
_No! Resist it! RESIST IT, DAMN IT!_

  
His butler pulled away, standing straight and watching, with a very smug grin, as his master slowly lost composure.

  
But Jungkook swallowed back his desperation. He wasn’t determined to amuse the dark-haired servant. He turned to stare up at him, trembling slightly. “Specifically what kind of sweets?”

  
His butler laughed. “Seokjin was in a good mood this morning.”

  
“I see,” Jungkook tried to laugh back. He slumped back into the mattress.

  
Silence.

  
“How long will it take for you to decide whether you want the sweets now, or sacrifice them for merely another ten minutes of undisturbed sleep?”

  
_Damn it._ Jungkook admitted to himself that he had a point.

  
His butler chuckled, raising a finger to his chin. “I forgot to mention, Seokjin said himself that he would let the dog have your sweets if you refuse to wake up.”

  
“Ah!” Jungkook shot up, lunging at him with hands that almost felt like claws. “All right, that’s it. Give me the damn sweets before I make you cut the grass with a pair of scissors only!”

  
“My, my,” came the sardonic reply. “Your excessive use of the word ‘damn’ is an implication of your true character. How unsightly! And even if you did make me cut the grass...”

  
Jungkook flinched as a hand touched his shoulder.

  
“_What makes you think that a pair of scissors would pose as a hindrance to my performance_?”

  
Jungkook seethed, letting out a cry of astonishment as he was pulled from his bed and taken into a pair of sturdy arms. His butler’s arms. He gasped, raising a hand to strike him out of embarrassment (which he was too proud to admit he had), before his hand was caught by another.

  
“Young Master,” his butler said exasperatingly. “Your efforts to stop me are futile.”

  
Jungkook felt his bottom hit the mattress. He glared up at his butler as he rifled through the wardrobe for a suit. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, feeling defeated now that he had yet again been won over by the mention of sweets. He pouted.

  
“Oh yes,” his butler initiated. “Since you have only been Earl for just over one month, another nobleman is coming over to have dinner with you this evening. A friend of your father, I overheard.”

  
Jungkook flinched at his father’s mention.

  
“Well?”

  
“I suppose...”

  
His butler gave him a suspicious look. Jungkook cleared his throat.

  
“I mean- damn it!” Jungkook groaned. “Another visitor! I have visitors every day!”

  
“You only had visits from ten nobles. Not thirty and over,” his butler corrected him. He stopped rummaging through the various suits and fixated Jungkook with a knowing gaze. “You seemed a bit perturbed, however. Is it because he was close to your father?”

  
“They all were, in some way, affiliated with him,” Jungkook dismissed his question, trying to sound indifferent. His father had, indeed, had many friends. Mostly acquaintances, as very few actually shared a familiar bond with him. His mother also had friends from all over- practically one from every existing country. Having a both a Korean and English lineage and living in a country such as England, nonetheless as nobles, earned the interest of many neighbouring noblemen. But Jungkook confessed that he assumed many of them would’ve long lost connection with his father. Especially after what had happened.

  
“Taehyung,” Jungkook called. His butler continued to search, sparing his master a glance of acknowledgement. Jungkook inhaled. “I had another dream.”

  
“Oh? Of what?”

  
“My...” Jungkook trailed off, appearing uncertain with himself. “My father.” He paused, staring intently at the ground. His fingers intertwined together. “But he’s dead...”

  
“Yes, and? Are you still unconvinced by his death?”

  
“No...” He shook his head. “It’s not that.”

  
Taehyung gave a barely audible laugh, his shoulders shaking in his amusement. He turned to fix Jungkook with his deliciously gleaming eyes. His fangs were beginning to show as he grinned delightfully. “_Do you remember how I killed him_?”

  
Jungkook stopped fidgeting. “What?”

  
Taehyung rose to his feet, walking slowly towards Jungkook with a suit in one arm and a pair of footwear in the other. He bent towards him, fingers brushing the back of Jungkook’s neck, trailing around slowly to the collar of his sleepwear before proceeding to unbutton it. Jungkook shivered at the coldness of his touch as his skin was exposed to the air.

  
“Well?” Taehyung asked again, pulling the sleeves of a white shirt around Jungkook’s arms.

  
“I don’t care to remember such things,” Jungkook retorted.

  
“_Oh_?” Taehyung smiled, tying a ribbon underneath and around the collar. “But wasn’t it such a lovely sight? The sight of the man you despised so much, as dead as doorknob, and lying in a pool of a most _lovely_ shade of red?”

  
Jungkook stammered.

  
“It wasn’t any less tedious than the other times I have killed,” Taehyung yawned. “He was already weak and in ill-health. But...” His eyes glowed again. “There was so much blood. So much of that _beautiful crimson_...”

  
Taehyung noticed Jungkook’s eyes widen with terror. He was trembling. “S- Stop... Stop with that already...”

  
“Hm?” Taehyung looked delightfully confused. “That’s surprising, coming from you. After all you’ve done thus far.”

  
“Shut it,” Jungkook ordered as Taehyung finished buckling his shoes. He felt slightly nauseous and desperately tried to rid himself of the memory he had tried so hard to forget. A memory he had dreams about so often that his nights were anything but peaceful.

  
“I apologise,” Taehyung said, raising a hand to his chest with a slight bow of his head. He stood, assisting Jungkook to his feet (who really required no help at all but was a rather spoiled child) and escorting him to the door and into the hallway.

  
“Good Morning, Master,” greeted one of his servants, who was standing by the staircase, giving the Earl a curt bow of respect as he passed.

  
“Hoseok,” Jungkook spoke as he began to descend the stairs. “Clean the hallway, would you? We have a guest this evening.”

  
“Yes, Master,” came the response. “Six o’clock to be precise. A carriage is bringing him over.”

  
“Excellent,” Jungkook approved. Taehyung followed at his side as the staircase finally led to the first floor, opening into the main hallway, which was equipped with portraits of various family members. Pot plants and vases occasionally added to the hallway aesthetic, sitting, almost but not forgotten, on chests of drawers and other furniture- specifically tables and desks. The carpet was a lush dark red, and stretched as far as the eye could see around the manor.

  
The manor belonged to his great grandfather- an Englishman. His mother, of Korean descent, was married into the family after she met Jungkook’s father on a trip to London. She was also a sort of noble, but definitely not as prominent.

  
A relatively normal family background, so why had all these things come to pass?

  
He observed the hallway, breath hitching with astonishment when he spotted another figure standing from afar. Jungkook’s eyes widened with terror when he made eye-contact, and braced himself with anticipation as the servant gave a laugh of delight and practically flew towards him.

  
“Jungkook~!”

  
Jungkook whipped around frantically as Taehyung run up from behind him to counter the approaching man. It was like watching two trains thunder towards one another. Taehyung aimed a hand to strike his opponent, but the other managed to leap gracefully over him, kicking Taehyung in the face in mid-air as he landed before Jungkook, taking him into his arms in a considerably tight squeeze.

  
“Good morning, Jungkook~!” he greeted cheerfully, paying no heed to Taehyung standing directly behind him like a looming tower. He gave a small grunt of pain as Taehyung hit him on the head, releasing the bewildered child, who tumbled onto the carpet with a small “oof”.

  
“How atrocious,” Taehyung scolded him, “for a servant of the Richmond household to call his master by his first name.”

  
“Jimin,” Jungkook growled, rubbing his knee. “You stupid git. I want the staircase _gleaming_ by the time our guest arrives.”

  
“Anything for you, my Lord~!” Jimin beamed. “Although, I don’t see what I did wrong. I believe he should be punished with unsavoury chores for hitting me.” He pointed at Taehyung, who returned a cold glare.

  
“I do believe you kicked my butler in the face,” Jungkook reminded him. He gestured to Taehyung. “Anyways, we need to get to the dining hall and make preparations for what we will be serving our guest.”

  
“Oh yes, of course,” Taehyung nodded. Jimin seethed as he watched them leave, more accurately, seething at Taehyung in particular. He made way for the stairs, muttering angrily to himself.

  
“What a troublesome fellow,” Jungkook remarked disdainfully.

  
“That’s rich coming from you,” Taehyung commented. “You were the one who recruited him, correct?”

  
“Don’t distinguish yourself from him,” Jungkook replied, glancing meaningfully at Taehyung and pointing to his collar. Taehyung sighed, stooping forward to fix it before they continued towards the dining hall.

  
“Anything else to add?” Taehyung queried.

  
“No,” Jungkook responded. “Let’s get to the sweets already.”

  
“Of course that’s your priority.”

  
“Shut it.”

  
“So what shall we be serving our guest?” Taehyung asked, raising a finger to his lips and running his tongue along the tip. “I suppose you have something in mind.” His eyes glowed again like red fire.

  
Jungkook felt uneasy. He stared at his feet as he walked on.

  
“Well?” Taehyung insisted.

  
Jungkook gave a small yelp as Taehyung pinched the back of his neck. He stopped in his tracks and trembled as Taehyung brought his lips to his ear, his voice menacing and quiet. “I assume you’ve thought of something, haven’t you?”

  
“Y- Yes,” Jungkook replied nervously. He was acutely aware of his watchful eyes scrutinising his face.

  
Taehyung sounded unconvinced, “Yes. I believe you have.” He smiled and walked along, leaving Jungkook to lag behind.

  
Why was he scared?

  
Jungkook swallowed hard. Why was he trembling so much? It had been this way for a month.

  
It was going to remain like this until the day his heart would stop.

  
He pondered for a moment. Taehyung turned back to glance at him, an elated expression on his face, before turning his back and continuing down in silence.

  
“Your sweets, Master.”

  
Jungkook looked up, breaking out of deep thought. “What? Oh, that’s right.”

  
“Forgotten already, have you?” Taehyung chuckled.

  
“N- No,” Jungkook dismissed, waving his hand as if he was shaking away the thought. He pressed his lips together, trying to muster up his superiority as the master of the household. A superiority that could make any person- even a demon- obey his orders. He forced himself to laugh sinisterly, grimacing with his effort, letting it ring quietly throughout the room.

  
Their guest was in for a treat.

* * *

The table was set with a marvellous selection of different dishes. Seokjin had outdone himself, but he had some help from Hoseok, who actually provided herbs and vegetables straight from the garden. They were both pleased with their efforts, but tried not to show their excitement as their guest took in the view, expressing his wonder.

  
“What flawless talent your servants have!” the nobleman remarked, a man named Godwin, or something close to it; Jungkook didn’t care for the names of their guests.

  
“Yes,” Jungkook responded, sipping his tea, flashing Taehyung a hasty glance, who was watching him carefully. “The Richmond servants are truly commendable.”

  
“I must say,” Godwin added, placing a piece of meat on his plate. “They’re an orderly bunch. I most definitely haven’t seen such serious and determined faces. I’m almost intimidated!” He gave a hearty laugh.

  
Jungkook rolled his eyes. He made eye contact with Taehyung again, who was looking both annoyed at the noble’s conduct, and excited for the events that were to come. Underneath his grave appearance was concealed a rising well of enthusiasm that was ready to overflow at any given time.

  
“I knew your father all of my life,” Godwin commented. He bit into his food, openly expressing his approval to Seokjin and Hoseok. “Practically since birth. And I say, I haven’t seen him have such precise servants working for him. For such a young Earl, you handled your responsibility very, very well.”

  
Jungkook stiffened. He glanced back at the nobleman.

  
_I don’t want to do it._

  
_I don’t want to, but I have to._

  
He looked back at Taehyung.

  
_I have to do this_.

  
Back at the noble.

  
_No. I can’t._

  
Back at Taehyung.

  
_I have to. I need to do it._

  
Back at the noble.

  
_I can’t! I can’t! I CAN’T!_

  
_Damn it_! Jungkook’s thoughts screeched at him. He was already finding it difficult to swallow his tea, but he couldn’t afford to make a mistake or let his motives show. But Godwin was exceedingly oblivious. He was the typical kind of nobleman who talked loudly and enjoyed gossip. The kind to _love_ eating. The kind to never refuse any offer of food.

  
_Perfect_.

  
“Um,” Jungkook spoke up, lowering his cup of tea. He cleared his throat, already feeling Taehyung’s attentive glare burn into him. He forced on a pleasant smile. “Excuse me, Sir, but try this stew.” He gestured to a large bowl of a thick, orange broth. It looked spectacular, containing colourful portions of various vegetables, and had a very alluring smell. It looked far too good to be turned down. He bit his lip nervously, aware of Taehyung’s suspicious stare.

  
He waited for his answer.

  
The noble blinked, staring confusedly at the stew, before his eyes brightened and his hands clasped together. “Oh, I’d love to try it! It looks so good…”

  
Jungkook swallowed, relief coursing through his body. He smiled again. “This is one of Seokjin’s best dishes! I really love eating it, so I wanted you to try some of it. To taste true Richmond culture.”

  
Godwin gave a curt nod, looking intently at Jungkook. “I would very much like to sample it, but I can’t help but notice that you seem very keen on it.”

  
Jungkook was seized by a jolt of panic. He laughed nervously. “Did I sound that desperate? No really, I insist.”

  
Taehyung was glowering at him. It wasn’t his usual, sadistic stare, but rather, an ominous glare that expressed disappointment. A much more _expectant_ glare. Jungkook cringed. Was he doing the wrong thing? His method still reached to the same conclusion, but…

  
In all honesty, he didn’t want to do this.

  
He never did.

  
And yet…

  
“I’ll have a bowl!” Godwin affirmed conclusively with hungry eyes. He watched with anticipation, appearing gradually more and more desperate as he watched Seokjin pour the stew in a bowl. It was working, but Taehyung obviously wasn’t satisfied. And somehow, that was the worst part.

  
The amount of time that it took for Godwin to dip the spoon in his bowl and bring it to his mouth, and the amount of time that it took for the poison to take its effect- it never occurred to Jungkook. Everything was happening in slow motion, but at the same time, everything was happening so fast. It was almost as if he was half-conscious for most of the time, and everything around him seemed very distant. But it was assured that the noble would die.

  
And Taehyung was extremely dissatisfied.

  
Finally, Godwin’s words were cut short. Jungkook wasn’t even aware of the topic of their mostly one-sided conversation- and he didn’t even care. Whatever Godwin was talking about was now history. He gave a strangled cry, his eyes widening and brimming with tears. Jungkook cringed, but tried not to show his remorse. He put on an apparel of surprise.

  
“Oh, Sir!” Jungkook forced himself to say in a tone of astonishment. “What’s wrong? Was there something wrong with the soup?”

  
Eventually, Godwin gave no answer, but gave one last shriek before he slumped lifelessly onto the table, his face falling into the bowl of soup. Jungkook clenched his fists, shaking, as he tried to force out a comment. But he couldn’t say anything. He watched the dead nobleman in utter horror, his stomach squeezing with nausea. He felt sick. He wanted to vomit.

  
Without thinking, he muttered to the body, “I- I’m sorry…”

  
Suddenly, Jungkook felt his shoulders get seized by a pair of firm hands. With an unforgiving tug, he was pulled off the chair and thrown onto the ground, emitting a small yelp of pain.

  
He looked up to see Taehyung glaring down at him with his glowing red eyes.

  
He was furious.

  
“My, my.”

  
Jungkook’s breath hitched as Taehyung grabbed him by the collar, making extra sure that his knuckles were digging into Jungkook’s throat. Jungkook’s eyes began to brim with tears at the gradual lack of oxygen, and additionally, because in the end, he was just a young boy with his own emotions and vulnerabilities, and since Jungkook was aware that Taehyung didn’t care for these things, he was even more traumatised.

  
His butler stared intensely into his terrified eyes, his own eyes darkening.

  
“How,” Taehyung drawled, “_pathetic_.”

  
Jungkook parted his lips to explain, but only let out a cry as Taehyung struck him in the stomach. He was also aware of three other pairs of eyes, watching emotionlessly as Taehyung abused his body. Jungkook could hardly hold back his urge to cry.

  
“Didn’t we make an agreement?” Taehyung seethed. His voice was relatively levelled, which just made him even more terrifying. “It seems that you broke it.”

  
Jungkook squeaked as Taehyung threw him against the wall, the back of his head hitting the concrete. Taehyung bent over him, a hand holding Jungkook’s neck lightly in a threatening way. That if he made the wrong move, he would strangle him.

  
“Well?” Taehyung insisted.

  
Jungkook swallowed back his tears, forcing himself to glare back at his butler. An uncomfortable pressure sat in his stomach and he was inclined to throw up. In this situation, Taehyung was certainly overpowering him, but there was a method he could use to steal that dominance.

He was reluctant to do it, but it was the only way.

  
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispered.

  
Taehyung’s eyes widened. He lowered his head and began to laugh, throwing it back in a hysterical cackle. He seized Jungkook again by the throat, “You think that’s enough!? How foolish! I don’t need your remorse- I want your soul! Tainted by hatred and vengeance! Is that too much to ask!?”

  
“That’s enough!” Jungkook screeched, lowering his collar, revealing a mark on the side of his neck. A seal of proof of their contract. With it, he could do whatever he liked with his servants. He inhaled as much as he could, though hindered by the pressure of Taehyung’s hand, before opening his mouth to deliver his command.

  
“TAEHYUNG, I ORDER YOU TO STOP THIS FARCE AT ONCE!”

  
Something seemed to hit Taehyung. He staggered backwards, the sadistic glow from his eyes draining. He stopped smiling. His hands released Jungkook’s neck. He slumped onto the floor, suddenly awake to the situation. Jungkook quickly stood to his feet, glaring at his butler, panting and struggling for breath. Taehyung almost appeared aloof.

  
“My Lord,” Taehyung began. He looked down at the boy, his eyes drained of all previous ferocity. “I apologise for my conduct.”

  
Jungkook delivered an unrepressed kick to his shins.

  
“You bastard!” Jungkook yelled, breathing heavily and pulling up his collar to hide the seal. Hot tears stung his eyes. He continued desperately. “I’m not ready to end the contract yet! I’m still faithful to the contract! So,” he sobbed, “don’t kill me yet, you insolent brute!”

  
“So desperate, eh?” Taehyung replied disdainfully. “And yet, you felt sorry for killing this man?”

  
“What could I do?!” Jungkook rambled on. “I’m a human with emotions! Of course I’m going to have difficulty doing this!” He pointed at Taehyung accusingly. “You don’t even know what humans feel!”

  
Taehyung sighed. “You’re still not ready to give up? Given the circumstances, I’m surprised you’re not willing to end the contract.” He grinned. “Even if it means continuing to live in despair.”

  
Jungkook forced back his tears as Taehyung leaned forward to stroke his cheek.

  
“I just want to eat a soul,” Taehyung explained, “that is riddled with despair. And for you to put such little effort into fulfilling simple regulations of our contract,” he glanced meaningfully at Godwin’s body, “it simply discourages me.”

  
He grabbed Jungkook’s chin pitifully. “_Poor boy_. I would’ve gone easier on you if you used a similar technique like last time. Humiliating the guest like that. Having his blood spray the walls with a beautiful crimson.” He licked his lips. “What about the time before that? Having the dog _devour_ him?”

  
“I’m still loyal to the contract,” Jungkook insisted. “Just this once, I strayed from it, but it doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of continuing.”

  
Taehyung laughed. His eyes glowed. “I didn’t think you wouldn’t.” He looked in satisfaction at the corpse lying at the dining table. He grasped Jungkook’s shoulder and turned him around, enabling him to see it. The same sick feeling throbbed in his stomach.

  
“I suppose there was no reason for being so harsh with you,” Taehyung brought a hand to his temple. “How silly of me for forgetting one important factor.”

  
“And what is that?” Jungkook asked with uncertainty.

  
“That man,” Taehyung began, “was your uncle.”

  
Horror surged through Jungkook’s body. His heart was gripped with a jolt of trauma, and he lunged forward, throwing up the contents of his stomach. He convulsed on the ground, foaming at the mouth as he took in what Taehyung said. The man that he murdered.

  
The man that he murdered to keep to the contract.

  
The man that he murdered at his own responsibility.

  
_It was his uncle._

  
“_Despair_,” Taehyung cackled, embracing Jungkook from behind. “It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? I forgive you for your pathetic farce from earlier, because this is priceless!”

  
Jungkook vomited again, tears flooding his eyes.

  
“You know what?” Taehyung whispered hungrily into his ear. “You look so delicious. I want to devour your soul so much right now. But it’s better to continue spicing and salting it until it tastes even better!”

  
Jungkook let out a scream of frustration and pain, his vision blurring, until it was overcome by a wave of darkness. He found himself in his bed, sweating profusely underneath the thick bed sheets. He was cleaned up and dressed in his sleepwear, but his mouth still had the lingering taste of vomit.

  
He wanted to die.

  
However, not by consumption.

  
He touched the seal on the side of his neck. His heart was beating rapidly. He wanted it to disappear so badly.

  
“God,” he prayed, “please help me…!” But he had strayed away from God a long time ago to make opportunity to form an acquaintance with a monster such as Taehyung.

  
The truth was his butler was a demon.

  
As were Hoseok, Seokjin and Jimin.

  
His soul was a meal they were yet to devour.

  
And how desperately tainted with despair they wanted it to be.

  
It was a curious situation, Jungkook thought. It was unlike any other he knew of. The fact that they wanted him to keep despairing just so that they could make a feast of it. In the end, it would only be a small meal. One they would forget about.

  
He got out of bed and made his way to the window to open it. He exhaled in relief as the cold air of the night cooled his burning body. He was content to breathe in the fresh air after the events of the day. He gazed up at the moon, which shone brightly down on him. It was somewhat more reassuring and peaceful than the light of the sun.

  
_One day, this will end_, Jungkook concluded to himself, trying to muster up feelings of positivity. He breathed in once more, exhaling slowly to calm himself, before staring ahead with a solemn smile.

  
_One day, this blood waltz will end._

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First name: Jung Kook  
Last name: Richmond  
Age: 13  
Height: 165cm  
Date of birth: September 1, 1867

A grim reaper stood at the end of the dining hall.

His emerald eyes scanned the room, an impacted look on his face as he took in the corpse that lay, undisturbed, at the dining table. He stared at the body for a moment, almost totally entranced by the scene. There was always something so mysterious about corpses, he thought to himself. It wasn’t always a pleasant encounter, but he loved to sit, observe and just wonder- wonder what events led to their deaths.

  
His thoughts were racing.

  
“…A bowl, eh?” the reaper remarked analytically. He raised a finger to his chin. “Poisoning, most likely.” A grave grin formed on his lips, and his eyes sparkled with realisation. “It’s been some time since I last reaped a person who had been poisoned…”

  
He leaned forward to inspect the corpse. His fingers travelled all over the body, pulling gently onto the fabric of his clothes and muttering comments in the process. He grasped the collar and pulled the face out of the bowl, his eyes widening with curiosity as he observed the soup that rested inside it, now cool from the time it had been left untouched.

  
“Fascinating,” the reaper gaped. “It looks almost too good to be resisted!” He bent down to smell the broth, murmuring in approval. He picked a spoon that was lying beside the bowl, which was sitting in a miniature puddle caused by the victim dropping the spoonful of soup, and gently poked the vegetables, still muttering to himself while he was deep in thought.

  
“Namjoon, what on earth are you doing?”

  
He stood up with a start, nearly spilling the contents of the bowl, and whipped around and came face-to-face with a fellow grim reaper, who was wearing a scowl on his face that suggested his disapproval and questioning of his colleague’s actions.

  
“We have a deadline,” the intruding reaper reminded him, holding up a pocket watch to his face.

  
Namjoon stared at him, aloof, and then at the watch. He blinked in confusion.

  
The second reaper gave a sigh of frustration, clasping shut the pocket watch and shoving it back in its original location. He raised a hand to Namjoon’s face, waving it slowly, then rapidly, until Namjoon was finally prompted back to reality.

  
“Oh, that’s right!” Namjoon exclaimed. He looked around himself in search of his scythe, before he heard his colleague grunt meaningfully. His face fell with realisation. He wasn’t in current possession of his scythe. It had been confiscated for two months.

  
“Goodness.” Another sigh. “I expected that by now you would’ve gotten used to not having your scythe around with you.”

  
“Shut up, Yoongi.”

  
“Not to mention,” the other replied. His eyes narrowed. “Apart from the fact that you don’t have a scythe at the moment, you have other responsibilities, don’t you? So that’s why I’m asking you why you were smelling someone else’s dinner.” He retrieved his scythe. “But, as usual, I don’t expect you have a reason for it. Not unlike every other thing you do.” He began to approach the corpse.

  
“Tch,” Namjoon retorted. “You’re just being full of yourself because you’re the only one out of us who actually has a scythe.”

  
“Indeed,” Yoongi responded.

  
“But what upsets me the most,” Namjoon began, pressing two fingers against his temple, “is that, in spite of me accidentally breaking my scythe and consequently having it removed from my ownership, your scythe is literally a guitar that has been smashed in half and for some reason nobody is complaining.”

  
“You broke yours,” Yoongi pointed out smugly. “I _modified_ mine.”

  
“Modified, my ass,” Namjoon grumbled.

  
Yoongi stopped beside the chair and stared at the body. Unlike Namjoon, his eyes betrayed all emotion. Rather, they were deprived of any surprise he might have felt for the discovery of the corpse. To be more accurate, in this particular location. He pulled on a pair of gloves and tugged the corpse back by the shoulders, a slight look of disgust on his face- which seemed to be his only reaction to the body. He watched it with disdain for another brief moment before he raised his scythe and finally struck it.

  
A series of record tapes seemed to explode from the body with a brilliant light. Yoongi adjusted his glasses and observed the records as they whizzed past his view. He stood and watched as the victim’s life and all his memories were manifested to him through that cinematic record. Namjoon tried to look as well, but after a short while, Yoongi stopped the presentation, much to Namjoon’s dismay.

  
“Hey!” Namjoon protested. “Why did you stop it? You didn’t even finish it!”

  
“Look for yourself if you must,” Yoongi yawned. “I didn’t stop it because it was too tragic or disturbing. I stopped it merely because it was boring.”

  
Namjoon watched the cinematic record for himself, unconsciously searching for the factors that contributed to Yoongi stopping the film because of boredom, and also focusing more diligently than Yoongi ever could on the victim’s life. Birth. Marriage. Life as a noble in London. And finally, the events leading to his death.

  
“Hold up,” Namjoon interrupted, his eyes widening and watching the tapes even more closely.

  
“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked, raising an eyebrow but still looking as uninterested as he was before.

  
Namjoon gaped. “It’s the Richmond boy again.”

  
Yoongi gave a very loud, exasperated sigh. “Of course it is.”

  
“The…” Namjoon mused aloud, his gaze still fixated on the tapes, “…eleventh time in a row, I believe.”

  
Yoongi’s voice was neutral. “Lovely.”

  
“The boy is fourteen,” Namjoon emphasised, shaking his hands frantically as if trying to make a point. “Fourteen-year-olds aren’t serial killers.”

  
“The world has many surprises, my friend.”

  
Namjoon whirled around to glare at the other reaper, seething, “Are you even remotely paying attention to me?”

  
Yoongi froze, a hand grasping an apple raised just below his chin. He flashed Namjoon an emotionless gaze, defying his previously dominant behaviour when he first confronted him. Yoongi usually came off as a demanding and officious partner, but after a couple of minutes, he would lose all his energy and mope around while Namjoon did all the work. Which again, was odd, considering he was the one with the death scythe.

  
“To be honest, no.” Yoongi took a bite out of the apple and stared distantly towards the end of the dining hall, pretending to inspect the architecture.

  
Namjoon muttered analytically, “Eleven murders by the same boy, in the same place. I wonder if there is a pattern in the time intervals between each killing.” He checked his records, flipping through the pages with a considerate hum. “No… There doesn’t seem to be. Although, five of them were on a Sunday…”

  
“And they were all nobles too.”

  
Namjoon stared in surprise at Yoongi.

  
Yoongi noticed he was watching him and immediately put down his already half-eaten apple. “What?”

  
“Nothing,” Namjoon said absently. “It’s just that you’re actually making an effort.”

  
“I am doing nothing of the sort,” Yoongi scoffed.

  
“Uh huh.”

  
Namjoon flipped the records to the most recent victim profile. He easily made the resemblance between the picture and the corpse’s face, looking back to clarify, before he took out a pen to complete the form.

  
“Godwin Richmond,” he mumbled as he read it through. “Born July 13th, 1840. Died August 20th, 1881. Cause of death,” he glanced back at the bowl, “poisoning.”

  
Yoongi exhaled with relief, taking the final bite out of the apple and picking up his death scythe, swinging it over his shoulders. “Finally. That took long enough.”

  
“You were right,” Namjoon said as he put away the records and straightened up conclusively. “The tape was utterly tedious.”

  
“But hey, we got a meal out of it, so it wasn’t a complete waste of our night after all.”

  
“You were the one eating while I was doing all the work.”

  
“I’m the one with the death scythe,” Yoongi pointed out.

  
“That would count if you actually did something with it!” Namjoon rebuffed.

  
He stared at the carpet, deep in thought. _Seriously. He comes in and bosses me around when he himself doesn’t contribute to the collection of souls at all. At least, the paperwork bothers him. That’s probably why. But why on earth would simply filling out profiles of people and their souls bother him so much? He never actually used his death scythe other than to swing it around and flex on me._

  
Something silver flashed past Yoongi, winning his attention.

  
Namjoon whirled around and watched the butter knife embed itself in the wall, his eyes widened with surprise and his thoughts racing. It was a clean cut through the plaster, and it remained there, completely undisturbed in its position. The efficiency of its hack into the wall was a demonstration of the extent of a possible injury if the knife hadn’t missed the potential target. A knife throw, that powerful and that accurate, could only imply one thing.

  
Namjoon glanced towards the end of the hallway expectantly.

  
“Ah!” Yoongi remarked with false enthusiasm, pointing accusingly at a tall, slender figure standing calmly by the entrance. “I knew it was you!” He raised his death scythe threateningly, an excited and slightly bloodthirsty glint in his eyes.

  
_A demon_! Namjoon gaped.

  
The intruder grinned, returning an equally bright stare, his mouth parted to show fangs that gradually formed as he took in his opponents. He looked at Namjoon, then at Yoongi, giving a breathy laugh before he forced on a cute expression. Namjoon admitted that there was certain purity to the demon’s face.

  
But it was their specialty, wasn’t it?

  
“Oh~!” the demon pouted. His eyes drooped with vulnerability. “A death scythe? How scary! I’m too scared to fight you~!”

  
Namjoon recognised this particular demon’s conduct. The manager of the reapers had profiled several of the demons in the area, including their behaviour and their names. It was for precautionary reasons, but there wasn’t strict instruction on keeping a lookout for them. In fact, demons were relatively rare to encounter, but Namjoon bothered to memorise most of the information on each one.

  
“Namjoon,” Yoongi called, not sparing his colleague a glance, but keeping his stare fixated on his opponent. “Who’s this one?”

  
“Park,” Namjoon mused. “Jimin Park, I believe.”

  
“Nice to meet you~!” the demon said brightly, and suddenly cheerful that he had been recognised. “Other than the young master, I’ve never confronted anybody who knew my name, and I’m really happy that you’re my first!”

  
“Enough talk,” Yoongi replied coldly. He motioned with his scythe. “I don’t care for your name. Jimin, or no Jimin, you’re a demon and that’s all that I care about.” He accelerated towards him and leapt off the table, holding the guitar over his head and swinging it in a downwardly direction towards Jimin’s face. “And demons are an inconvenience that needs to disappear.”

  
“Oh…” Jimin gasped as he helplessly watched the scythe descend on him.

  
The scythe collided; but not with its intended target, however. Jimin had fastened a grip on the guitar before it could barely scathe his face. His previous harmless expression was now a scowl. A scowl that only implied that he was going to wreak havoc on his opponent and would stop at nothing to assure his requirements were met.

  
“Bloody hell,” Yoongi cursed under his breath. His eyebrows knitted together. “But somehow, this still isn’t surprising. No matter,” he ripped the scythe out of Jimin’s grasp, “I will make sure we take leave soon.”

  
“Abandoning a fight halfway?” Jimin seethed delightfully. His fuchsia eyes glimmered. “Ah, that wouldn’t do.”

  
“We barely even began this fight,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “How can you say that we’re halfway through it?”

  
“Simply because,” Jimin smiled self-assuredly, “it’s going to be a quick and easy victory for me.”

  
_Yoongi looks frustrated, but in an almost childish way,_ Namjoon mused. _Like a child trying to show off the impressive extents and capabilities of a toy. Yoongi seems to possess a repressed disappointment at the lack of praise he and his scythe are getting, rather than at the situation itself. Which is, in essence, hardly surprising given his lack of empathy for the people around him_. But Namjoon was an understanding man, and he knew his friend had spent time ‘modifying’ the already-broken guitar he was reluctant to admit was broken.

  
_But even a combat-related modification_, Namjoon continued silently, _would’ve done more than whatever his edgy ass has done to reinforce the guitar that is so blatantly useless from an outside perspective._

  
“_Tch_,” Yoongi scoffed. “Your butter knives are no match for my death scythe!”

  
“And your death scythe is no match for my butter knives!” Jimin retorted.

  
“Can we please just go?” Namjoon interrupted, waving his book of records in the air meaningfully, trying to convince his annoyingly obstinate partner to agree with his point of view.

  
Unsurprisingly, Yoongi didn’t pay him or his preferences any heed. Namjoon sighed hopelessly, bringing his fingers to his forehead in disappointment. “With any luck, you will end this matter quickly, Yoongi.” _And please don’t cause extensive destruction to the manor while you’re doing so._

  
“You know,” Yoongi began, running towards Jimin with his scythe poised to strike, “I remember seeing you last time I paid the manor a visit. You were dusting the furniture.” He laughed. “To think that demons stoop so low to make a feast of a soul! How foolish!”

  
Jimin froze. He threw his head back, his eyes glazed and his mouth parted. Yoongi stopped running, voicing his confusion as he relaxed his grip on the scythe. Jimin looked completely entranced, and Namjoon could almost see saliva dribbling from the side of his lips. But there was something so hungry, and so, _so_ satisfied about his facial expression after what Yoongi had said.

  
He almost looked… _aroused_.

  
“Yoongi…?” Namjoon prompted, watching the reaper’s face fall with confusion and hesitation to make a move. “Yoongi, as I have already mentioned, I believe we should-”

  
“My young master’s soul,” Jimin blurted, eyes gleaming, “is a perfect and delicious soul.”

  
Namjoon staggered back carefully, aware of the sudden and overwhelming expression of longing on the demon’s face. He straightened his glasses, watching disdainfully as Jimin carefully edged towards Yoongi, mumbling about his master’s soul in the same manner as a drunken man. Yoongi looked like he wanted him to shut up, and that he had no interest in his master’s soul whatsoever, but he couldn’t help but observe Jimin for a little longer.

  
“Your master,” Namjoon said. “What’s his name?”

  
Jimin opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sudden intrusion of another person. At least, that’s what Namjoon assumed initially, but immediately reconsidered when he saw the same glowing eyes and the same malicious expression. Except, rather than being clad in a uniform, he was wearing an apron and a chef’s hat, both of which were immaculate and well-ironed.

  
Namjoon saw Yoongi suppress a groan. They were one death scythe short. Yoongi was practically outnumbered by the demons now. He looked at the second demon, his thoughts racing, trying to retrieve his identity from the depths of his efficient memory.

  
_Seo… Seok_…

  
_Seokjin_?

  
_Seokjin_.

  
_Jimin and Seokjin._

  
Seokjin raised his weapons: kitchenware. His attire and the butcher knife he was holding indicated he was the chef of the manor. Of course, it was already obvious as soon as Namjoon laid eyes on him. He winced in anticipation of both the demons and Yoongi’s actions. Who would make the first move? Yoongi looked uncertain.

  
“Ah, Jin!” Jimin called pleasantly. He was almost singing. “Help me get rid of these reapers!”

  
“Reapers?” Seokjin raised his eyebrows. He looked dramatically bored. “At the dinner table? I apologise, but dinner was ready a long time ago. The food has,” he smiled bitterly, “gone cold.”

  
_What a self-confident tone,_ Namjoon rolled his eyes. _Actually, it almost seems theatrical_.

  
“Fellow reapers,” Seokjin began, raising his weapon. “I’ll put you in the master’s soup.”

  
_How scandalous._

  
Yoongi looked ready to curse. His grip on the scythe tightened, and it appeared as if he was to accidentally break it anytime soon. He grimaced. “We’re just here to collect a soul! Why must demons always get in the way of our work?! Let us finish, and then we’ll leave, damn it!”

  
Jimin leaped towards Yoongi, holding several pairs of butter knives. “As if we care about your work!”

  
“Yoongi!” Namjoon warned. “Be careful! Both of your opponents are armed! If you-”

  
“Get yourself a bloody death scythe, Namjoon!” Yoongi retorted. He swung the guitar at Jimin’s face, unsurprisingly missing, before falling back with a grunt as Jimin drew the knives swiftly across Yoongi’s cheek. Blood spurted from the fresh wound, and Yoongi held a free hand to the side of his face to intercept the bleeding. Jimin watched him with a satisfied grin.

  
Namjoon scowled. Reapers and demons were both extremely invulnerable to death. It was a pointless battle, he figured. At the end of the day, the worst that could happen in this situation would be that they would end up with a few scratches. It was better to abandon the fight and go back to the headquarters, but apparently Yoongi wouldn’t listen to reason.

  
“Shit,” Yoongi swore, glancing at his bloodied hand. But before he could defend himself, Jimin launched himself at Yoongi once again, stabbing at air as Yoongi backed away in astonishment. He raised his scythe as a shield as Jimin threw the knives toward him, managing to leave a small scratch mark on the paintwork on the back of the guitar. Yoongi looked increasingly upset as Jimin continued to mar the scythe without mercy.

Yoongi gave a volatile grunt of anger and lunged at the demon without warning. He pinned Jimin to the ground with the scythe, overjoyed at his sudden dominance over him, before Seokjin dropped down with the butcher knife, poised to strike. Fortunately, Yoongi barely managed to escape the fatal blow, which wouldn’t have killed a reaper, but would have definitely left severe bodily damage. He was sprawled on the ground, panting for breath. He weakly looked up at Namjoon with a sudden jolt.

  
“Do something, you damn idiot!” Yoongi screeched, rolling away as a knife embedded itself into the carpet beside him. He jumped to his feet, struggling to stand, before running towards the table.

  
“How about we leave instead?” Namjoon suggested impatiently.

  
“How about you grab a chair or something and help me!”

  
Namjoon gritted his teeth, his eyes widening as Seokjin abandoned his pursuit of Yoongi and fixed his devilish gaze on him. He watched as the demon sprung off the wall and aimed a cheese grater at him. Namjoon rapidly dodged the kitchen utensil, which hit and left a few marks on the wallpaper. Seokjin readied his next weapon- his butcher knife- before jumping up and landing gracefully behind Namjoon.

  
_A weapon_. _I need a weapon_, Namjoon thought quickly. _But what? A chair would be effective, but it’s troublesome to handle. Not to mention, I have very little control over the direction I want it to move in. Admittedly, I’m not the strong type, so maybe something on the table, perhaps? A ladle inside one of those bowls? A dish? What can I possibly use?_

  
He grabbed a teapot, which was the closest object to reach, and hurled it towards Seokjin. Unfortunately, it missed and smashed into pieces against the wall.

  
_Damn it_! Namjoon seethed. _I’ll have to try something else._

  
_But what_?

  
“Namjoon, look out!” Yoongi warned. Namjoon whirled around to see Seokjin aiming the knife at his face. He brought his hands out in defence, but found he didn’t need to. Yoongi had jumped in between Namjoon and Seokjin, holding out his scythe to protect his colleague. Seokjin’s knife struck the scythe, but failed to cut into it. Yoongi had a triumphant expression on his face.

  
“You know nothing can cut a death scythe, right?” Yoongi taunted. He heaved the scythe into Seokjin’s chest, throwing him off balance as he crashed to the floor.

  
Namjoon exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. He looked up at Yoongi gratefully. “Thank you.”

  
Yoongi didn’t reply. His gaze was still fixated on Seokjin breathing heavily on the carpet. His eyes were glazed with pain, but nevertheless he wasn’t defeated. Nobody expected a mere blow from a broken guitar to demon flesh would actually harm a demon. But Yoongi was happy that he could deal damage to a demon. Even though it didn’t show on his face at all.

  
“Yoongi,” Namjoon began. “Aren’t we going to-“

  
There was a battle cry above him. Yoongi immediately responded to the danger by grabbing Namjoon’s collar and throwing him aside. His head hit the wall and everything flashed black for a second. Namjoon tried willing his vision to normal, but he couldn’t stop the dark dots from completely overcoming his sight. He sat there, slumped against the wall, head throbbing with pain.

  
_I should be helping him_, he wondered half-consciously. _I should have my scythe with me, fighting alongside him. But even so… _He jolted with realisation._ The Richmond boy. He killed Godwin- his uncle, actually- inside this manor. He should be around, right? Could it be that…?_

  
Something struck his forehead. Namjoon drowsily opened his eyes to see dark, red eyes glowering into his own. He winced, studying the pale face in front of him, his heart racing as he wondered what to do. _A third demon? How many are there?_

  
He was thrown aside again by rough hands. Namjoon coughed, groaning in pain, before glancing back up at the demon, who was watching him coldly with apparent disregard for his welfare. But there was amusement in his aloof glare.

  
“Scythe-less, are you?” he chuckled bitterly. Namjoon looked at the dinner table; at Yoongi and the other two demons. They had still been fighting when he nearly lost consciousness, but Namjoon felt like he had woken up from a deep sleep. Now, in acknowledgement of the third demon’s entrance, both Seokjin and Jimin paused the battle. But there was something about their expressions. They watched him in reverent silence, an almost intimidated look on their faces.

  
Namjoon noticed for the first time that the demon that had just arrived was wearing a typical butler’s suit and had an almost undeniable air of superiority. Assuming there was a hierarchy existing among the servants, Namjoon observed that Seokjin and Jimin were both underlings and that the other was a sort of master to them.

  
“Taehyung,” Seokjin addressed him politely.

  
Jimin looked more uncaring than his partner, but there was still some fear hidden under that attire of indifference.

  
“What’s going on here?” Taehyung demanded in an almost passive-aggressive tone. He looked around the dining hall in disappointment. “What a mess. If you’re fighting grim reapers, at least do it more elegantly.” His eyes drooped. “You’ve even made a mess of the carpet. Congratulations.”

  
“How’s the young master?” Jimin tried to change the subject.

  
“He’s in bed,” Taehyung answered inattentively, his eyes still scanning the table. He raised his eyebrows. “Grim reapers, eh?”

  
“Yes, a couple of grim reapers doing their jobs, thank you very much,” Yoongi explained tartly. “Don’t forget that you’re all lowly demons and your existence matters nothing to us.” He pursed his lips. “And if you don’t want us here, then perhaps kill your victims in a more convenient location. Maybe outside? Why would you leave a dead body at your table, anyway?”

  
Taehyung smiled. “My apologies. I’ll make sure you complete your work without getting attacked.”

  
“Oh no,” Yoongi retorted, “we’ve finished our work already. We were just getting ready to leave, in fact, when your servants attacked.”

  
“Servants?” Taehyung looked confused. “They are nothing of the sort. We’re all servants to our master, doing what the master pleads.”

  
“Well then,” Yoongi scoffed. “I’d like to have a word with your master. Where is he?”

  
Something in the atmosphere seemingly cracked. The pleasant smile on Taehyung’s face disappeared. Seokjin and Jimin suddenly had blank, cold expressions.

  
_Just like with Jimin,_ Namjoon reasoned. _As soon as Yoongi mentioned his master’s soul, he fell into some sort of trance. So it’s a multiple contract, huh. Contract with whom, though? The only person responsible for the murders in this house is Jungkook. But he’s just a child- there’s no way he made these contracts. But then again, he was the cause of the murders, so if he has the audacity to commit the killings, then the possibility of him being their master…._

  
_It’s likely_, Namjoon concluded. There was a sudden slight feeling of sickness in the pit of his stomach. _It’s rather disturbing to think about, actually. I don’t want to admit that it’s true; I still need to confirm it._

  
Lost in his musings, Namjoon almost forgot about the tense atmosphere.

  
“You want to speak to our master?” Taehyung spoke up, breaking Namjoon out of his thoughts. There was a spiteful and distrusting glint in his eyes. He scoffed. “I believe you have nothing to do with a demon’s prey.”

  
“Why not?” Yoongi insisted. “I believe you were the ones prying into our business.”

  
“Our master is to be unaware of your existence,” Taehyung snapped. His glare was hesitant and almost fearful.

  
“Worried that we’ll take your food away?” Yoongi replied disdainfully. “Don’t make me laugh, demon. We’re not interested in your master for our sake. WE JUST WANT TO DO OUR JOB IN PEACE, ALRIGHT?!”

  
Taehyung sighed melodramatically. “Very well. We’ll let you go. I apologise for the abrupt attack.”

  
Yoongi watched Taehyung’s face in anticipation. There was no further message. There was a tense silence between the demons and the reapers, and for a moment, nobody moved. Eventually, Yoongi exhaled in annoyance before stalking away, brushing past Taehyung and approaching the open window through which they entered. He turned around gestured at Namjoon.

  
_Oh_.

  
_That was quick._

  
Namjoon gave a silent chuckle of disbelief. _What a waste of time._

  
“Namjoon,” Yoongi spoke carefully, as if trying not to draw too much attention from the demons. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You were the one who suggested we leave-”

  
“I know, I know,” Namjoon responded curtly. He flashed one last glance at Taehyung’s scowling face before quietly making his way to the window sill. The demons didn’t move. Namjoon was acutely aware that they were all watching them very hard. As if the reapers would decide to reconsider and continue the fight.

  
_That’s stupid,_ Namjoon thought. _Yoongi already has a facial injury, and he’s much too unbothered to deal with any more of them. To him, injuries are extremely troublesome and take too much effort to treat. Besides, demons are worthless creatures that we shouldn’t shed unnecessary blood over._

  
Yoongi didn’t even wait for Namjoon to climb out. As soon as he saw that Namjoon could exit the manor by himself, Yoongi took off and disappeared into the darkness, silhouetted against the moonlight. Namjoon rolled his eyes, not daring to look back as he followed after his colleague. As soon as he felt their sharp glares wane, Namjoon exhaled a sigh of relief and went along at a more relaxed pace. As he travelled beside the manor, something at a certain window caught his eye.

  
Namjoon turned to look towards the windows, still unsure of the exact location he noticed a faint figure. He strained his eyes through the darkness, finally spying a face staring up at the sky.

  
It was not a cold, bloodied gaze of a demon, but rather, lonely and miserable.

  
The longing eyes belonging to a child.

  
_The Richmond boy_, Namjoon realised with a jolt. He peered closer, noticing that the child never paid him heed. He was staring at the moon, seemingly longing for hope. Eyes that portrayed wishes trapped inside him like birds in a cage. He looked so helpless. So…

  
_Perhaps he is indeed their master_.

  
Namjoon felt his heart ache with sympathy.

  
_Perhaps he was forced to make a contract._

  
He extended a hand towards the child from his distance.

  
_He doesn’t want it._

  
_He doesn’t want to be in this situation_.

  
Namjoon gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. _Why am I thinking these things? It’s not like I can do anything to help him. _

  
He recalled the demons’ gazes. Full of desire and hunger every time their master was mentioned. Namjoon suddenly and unexpectedly felt indignant. Indignant that they were so negligent, so uncaring, so selfish. So deliberately unaware of the boy’s pain- or that’s what they wanted.

  
Namjoon found himself staring into the boy’s eyes directly. Astonishment surged through his body at the sudden eye-contact. Flustered, Namjoon noticed the boy’s lips began to move. He was trying to form words. Was he talking to him? Namjoon concentrated on the formations of his mouth. There was a brief silence. He then realised with a start the message the boy was trying to communicate.

  
“_Save me_.”


	3. Chapter 3

_The seal of the contract._

He hated that mark.

Jungkook sighed with dissatisfaction as his hand gingerly stroked the seal that was imprinted permanently on the side of his neck. His eyes fell on the accessories laid out for him by Taehyung on the counter. They looked rather important. Perhaps he wasn’t staying inside the manor for the day after all, as he had originally thought.

It was eight o’ clock in the morning, and the sun was glowing peacefully through the windows- large enough to fit two of him inside- and filling the room with light. The shock from the previous evening had waned slightly, but every time he recalled the events, a shiver coursed through his body and he felt sick to his stomach all over again.

_Ah._

He slumped towards the counter, fists pressed firmly against the tabletop and seemingly driving themselves into it. He glanced at the mirror, watching his reflection carefully with his lips parted. He stared at the mark again, and as if summoned from a void, an idea warped itself into his head.

_What if I..._

He slowly lifted a hand to his neck.

_Just did this?_

He flexed his fingers like the claws of a cat, running them swiftly along his neck. He touched the seal again, observing the movement of his hand around it, scratching gradually and deeply into the skin. _Oh._ That felt surprisingly good. Jungkook let out a shaky, contented sigh as he pressed his nails into the mark, dragging them with more force, over and over...

Over and over and over and over and over until his neck turned bright red. He bit his lips, oblivious to the stinging pain but rather aware of the mark’s inability to disappear.

He did this a lot.

Sometimes he would scratch a little bit; sometimes he would scratch until his skin bled.

_It would never go away, though._

“Mm,” Jungkook hummed croakily to himself. The pain wasn’t too intense; he was used to it. He thought it was a weird idea to start doing this at first, but after a short while it became a habit. Hiding it from his servants was troublesome initially, but it would usually go away much faster if he washed the skin with cold water.

_I should probably stop before Taehyung gets here._

Jungkook let his hand fall limply to his side before leaning forward to inspect the irritated skin on the side of his neck. It felt hot. A crooked smile formed on his lips. Why would he want cold water if it was only to relieve the skin of the pain he had inflicted intentionally? He bent to pick up the silk fabric he wore as a scarf and tentatively wrapped it around his neck, tying it tightly at the back.

“Master?” a low voice from the other side of the door reverberated.

Jungkook winced and flashed the doorhandle a weary glance, watching it move downwards slowly.

Taehyung’s head appeared from behind the door. His face was stern, as usual, and he still wore that same aloof expression. In fact, if anyone was to look at Taehyung and guess what he did the previous night, they would never assume he assisted in a murder plot.

“What do you want?” Jungkook chirped grumpily.

Taehyung closed the doors behind him and walked toward Jungkook, looking almost pleasant. “We’re going to town today, Master.”

Jungkook’s ears pricked.

“I am aware that you’ve hardly been out of the manor since your father died,” Taehyung pointed out. “But it might do you some good, and your publicity will relieve many townspeople.”

“Tch,” Jungkook responded abruptly. “I don’t feel like going.”

He suddenly felt the butler lean forward to place his lips beside his ears, a bare hand toying loosely with his scarf, and he whispered in a manner that almost seemed to pierce through his soul, “That’s a rather brave attitude to put on after what happened the other night.” His hand traced the material and gently tugged onto it experimentally, watching Jungkook’s reaction in the mirror.

His heart skipped a beat, and before he knew it he was batting away Taehyung’s hand without paying heed to the consequences. Surprise unfolded on Taehyung’s face, but also malicious acknowledgement of a new discovery. He gave a laugh, “Whatever is the matter? You did an indecent job of tying the scarf, so I merely tried to fix it.” His lips twitched at the corners. “What is it? Are you perhaps,” he pulled onto the scarf, “trying to hide something from me?”

“Certainly not,” Jungkook snapped, squirming out of his grasp.

Taehyung smirked. “I see.” He started towards the door, retrieving a pocket watch and glancing at the time before turning around and fixing Jungkook with a testing glower. “By the way, Master. Pardon me for the ruckus- we had some visitors the other night.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “They won’t be coming back for a long time.”

“Understood,” Jungkook murmured to himself, his blood running cold. What on Earth did they do? At least this time he couldn’t be blamed. _Visitors, huh? _He recalled the previous night, and curling up into a ball underneath the sheets, trying to fight away the memories. He shuddered and glanced in the direction of the window.

_But there was someone, wasn’t there?_

Yoongi found himself getting more and more pissed off at Namjoon with every word he uttered.

“What does it feel like to be scythe-less now, huh?” Namjoon chirped teasingly. “It sucks, right?”

“Would you bloody shut up already?!” Yoongi snapped. He slumped onto a seat, removing his glasses to briefly rub his eyes. “You were the one causing problems.”

“Which weapon proves that?” Namjoon said thoughtfully, pointing at the air. “Oh, that’s right! I didn’t _use _one. So sorry, Yoongi. It really must suck to be in your position.”

Yoongi didn’t pay him any heed. He twisted on the chair and sat with his chin on the backrest, staring grumpily at the shelves that contained myriads of documents. He turned his glare on Namjoon and with an irritable grunt muttered, “When we get back to that manor, I’m going to beat those demons’ asses, especially their ringleader- who’s that one again? Taehyung, was it?”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon approved.

“Bloody hell,” Yoongi growled. “He annoys me.”

“What makes you assume we’re going back any time soon?” Namjoon prompted. He approached one of the shelves and skimmed through one of the documents with disinterest in his eyes. He sighed and placed it back, whirling around to watch Yoongi pout. “They understand our intentions. They were just a little crabby that we wandered on their terrain. They know we were there to collect souls, so maybe they’ll put their dead bodies in a more convenient place next time.”

“I’d be surprised if they did,” Yoongi scoffed. “Seriously. Who leaves a corpse at a dinner table, for crying out loud?” His eyes darkened momentarily. “More specifically,” he whispered grimly, “what was the driving force for this crime to be committed?”

Namjoon’s breath hitched. “Exactly.”

“Now, I’m not one to be involved with the police, but…” Yoongi trailed off and stared distantly at the shelves with a certain absence in his eyes. Something seemed to jolt inside him. “Actually, scratch that. I don’t give a damn about the police force. I’m just curious as to how this little boy gets away with these murders.”

“The little boy…” Namjoon murmured. Yoongi noticed a flash of sadness cloud over his eyes. He titled his head confusedly. They made brief eye-contact, and Namjoon continued slightly more confidently. “I saw him- the little boy- at the window last night.”

“Did you?” Yoongi responded inattentively, picking at the irregularity in the wood until it chipped away to form a strange strawberry-like shape.

“Yes, and he looked…”

“Well, go on.”

“Hopeless, I’d say.”

“Hopeless?”

“Or rather, desperate for something that was out of his reach…”

“Are you sure?”

“Help,” Namjoon concluded. “That’s the word. He appeared to want help.”

That made Yoongi abruptly snort. “He looked like he needed help? The psychiatric kind?”

“No, I mean…” Namjoon looked uncertain with himself. “I mean, _our _help.”

Yoongi paused, breath hitching. A sensation surged through his body- one of surprise- and he began to hear the drone of blood in his ears. He fixed Namjoon with an expressionless stare, still struggling to understand what he just said. Part of him wanted what Namjoon suggested to be a joke, but Namjoon was usually too dense for these kinds of things. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or completely lose it.

“Our help?” Yoongi echoed questioningly, his voice suddenly low. He heaved a sigh of disappointment in his partner, leaning back into the table. “Are you mental? Grim reapers don’t get involved with humans and you know full well that’s the case.”

“There are four demons,” Namjoon argued. “It’s not like he has anyone else left in this world.”

Yoongi suddenly pushed back the chair and rose to his feet, slamming one fist on the table beside him and throwing Namjoon a glare of disdain. Namjoon winced, cringing in anticipation of Yoongi’s unfeeling wrath, but he noticed that his stony partner had a rather calm expression on his face. Which, essentially, never stayed true to his real emotions. Yoongi gave a sigh, adjusted his glasses and approached Namjoon slowly, freezing before him and slapping a palm on his shoulder.

“I know you feel empathy for the boy,” Yoongi started carefully, staring Namjoon in the eyes. He bit his lip and continued hesitatingly. “So do I, believe me- but you know what happens when we grim reapers intervene with situations such as these. Our effort is futile, especially when he has four demons in a contract with him.”

“We can try…” Namjoon insisted softly. His green eyes were sad and clouded. Seemingly filled with the same desperation he had described to be evident in the boy’s eyes that night. There was something about him, Yoongi noticed. It was as if Namjoon was empathising with the boy to an extent that all those feelings were transferred to him. Yoongi felt his heart throb.

Namjoon was a kind person.

Too kind to be a grim reaper.

Too mellow to fight demons. Too compassionate to treat humans as disposable. Too clumsy to use a death scythe. Too sensitive to collect bodies. Even though he did these things as naturally as any other grim reaper, Yoongi knew that Namjoon had been suffering the most out of all the grim reapers he worked with. Namjoon was truly more human than grim reaper.

Nevertheless…

“Please, Namjoon,” Yoongi replied quietly. The words brought something to mind. Something brief but painful. A memory he had left behind in his previous life. His eyes widened. He was surprised to have suddenly remembered it. At last he added lowly, his voice a murmur. “You don’t want to bring any more misfortune on the boy.”

Stepping into town after one month of being trapped in his manor made Jungkook’s skin crawl.

He was very aware of the crimes he had committed and couldn’t help feeling paranoid every time he passed an officer on the street. It was also Taehyung’s watchful eyes that prevented him from adapting to the behaviour of a typical passer-by in town. It was often too much. Jungkook felt like he was going to self-destruct in the middle of the pathway, among the bystanders and in front of the accompanying demon butler. On one hand, Jungkook didn’t mind the thought.

It was also the outfit he was wearing. He looked like a noble. He _was _a noble. But he didn’t want to stand out. Not when he already felt an impending feeling of exposure. Not when he fretted that people could secretly read his thoughts. Not when Jimin was following right behind him, drooling on his ass.

“You’re going to cause a scene,” Taehyung scolded the other demon, a faint glare in his crimson eyes. His nose twitched. “Your behaviour is scandalous.”

Jimin couldn’t care less about his warning. He returned Taehyung’s glower with a glittery look of bloodlust, his cheeks a pale pink. “The master’s soul smells so different in the town air. It’s so interesting and so very intoxicating…” He leaned toward Jungkook, fingers outstretched behind his neck. “If I could eat it now—”

Taehyung’s facial expression changed. Jungkook didn’t catch glimpse of the demon because he was too quick, and entirely efficient. In less than a span of a second, Jimin was clutching his shoulder, grimacing in pain. The joy had vanished from his eyes and was immediately replaced with cold bitterness and astonishment. Taehyung continued to walk in silence, acting as if nothing had happened, as Jimin cursed beside him under his breath.

Jungkook cringed. These kinds of things made him aware of how indifferent the demons were. Was this all just a game to them? To see how despaired his soul could become in a certain amount of time. Of course it was. They were self-aware. And even though they made an agreement to share his soul after they had cultivated it to its full capacity, Taehyung seemed strangely desperate to avoid the subject in the presence of the servants.

On the other hand, the streets weren’t very busy that day.

Jungkook remembered that they were busier. Maybe. It had been a month of complete mind-fuckery, after all. He was even sure if he was mentally stable anymore. Thinking of things of the past brought him to remember once more the figure passing by the window the night before. But it had occurred to him that perhaps the murder had taken a toll on his senses, and maybe nobody was there.

_Nobody was there._

It was better not to give himself false hope, after all.

“Would you like something to eat, Master?” Taehyung asked quietly.

At that moment, Jungkook noticed a stall that was selling hard boiled candy. Something lit inside of him, but he knew that Taehyung wouldn’t let him have candy without eating a proper meal beforehand. A store nearby was making pastries. _Crepes sound good too. _Suddenly, the child-like innocence was beginning to manifest once again.

“I’m so hungry…” Jimin drawled.

“Demons cannot hunger,” Taehyung pointed out icily. “Control yourself, you pig.”

“The Master’s soul…”

Taehyung didn’t reply, but Jungkook could see the corner of his lips twitch and expose the gleaming surface of a fang. He was getting increasingly annoyed at Jimin. He was always annoyed at him, although it was so normal that Jungkook found it easy to brush off. But the tension was making him uncomfortable. They were in public. He didn’t want townspeople to see two demons break into a fight over the soul of a young boy.

“Good afternoon, mister.”

Jungkook flinched and turned to see a slender woman approach the group confidently and without evident regard for their privacy. She was wearing a tight maid’s outfit and had noticeably attractive features, and she was heading for Jimin in a slow strut. She placed her arms around his neck, stared into his eyes seductively and traced her fingers across his chest. “You look incredibly fine.”

Jungkook forced back an exclamation of embarrassment and surprise at her random gesture. He looked up at Taehyung questioningly, who was only staring very hard at the lady, as if he was also utterly baffled by this occurrence. But then there was a look of approval in his eyes, which disappeared just before Jungkook could fully register it. Jungkook felt his cheeks grow warm, and he was astonished when he noticed Jimin’s consistent calm expression. Because he was almost always high, and high on the thought of devouring Jungkook’s soul.

“We have matching outfits~,” she continued in an almost drunken manner. “You would be the perfect butler to the perfect maid…”

Jimin didn’t respond, but nonetheless prompted her to continue.

“Come have a drink with me~!”

Before Jimin could protest, Taehyung cut in and placed his hand on his shoulder. “You should probably go, Jimin. You’ve been cleaning the stairs for four days now. Do something stress-relieving.”

The woman obviously took the statement as a joke to suit Jimin’s attire, but both Jungkook and Jimin knew that this was completely unlike Taehyung. Jimin nevertheless gave a small, confused nod and then disappeared into a building, namely a bar, and the remaining two stood by for a quiet moment. Taehyung spoke first.

“Now that we got rid of that nuisance, we should probably get going.” The way Taehyung spoke of the situation was likened to a gardener talking about the clearance of weeds in a garden. Jungkook winced. Couldn’t they just get along? They were the same species- demons. Were demons just isolated creatures who couldn’t love anyone? Was there only hatred between them?

“There’s a butchery right around the corner, down this alleyway,” Taehyung suggested. “We should go down there and find something for Jin to cook with. Maybe we’ll find a snack for you too.”

Jungkook grimaced. He didn’t feel like eating any meat. After the events of the previous night, anything that reminded him of the death of living creatures made him sick to the stomach. Of course, Taehyung only encouraged such a feeling. He could only respond with a weak nod, which Taehyung acknowledged and then began to lead him in the store’s direction.

There was something that was certainly off about Taehyung, Jungkook figured. Especially now that they were alone, without the interference of any other demon. His eyes were unusually bright and anticipating, and there was a bare figment of a smile forming on his lips. He was usually so placid and grim, especially when Jimin was doing something stupid outside his supervision. But now, as they passed the commotion on the streets, Taehyung was unusually calm. Almost relaxed.

“It’s a good day today,” Taehyung grinned.

His statement took Jungkook by surprise. For something as human as small talk to come from a demon’s mouth.

“Yes,” Jungkook muttered in response. He considered adding “It’s been a while since I saw the town”, but figured it was too reminiscent of the trauma he was put through. Instead, he fell silent and continued to pace alongside Taehyung.

“What do you want to eat tonight?” Taehyung questioned. “What meat do you prefer?”

Jungkook felt his stomach churn. “I d- don’t really care…”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything in reply. More silence. Jungkook felt a chill run down his spine. Even though there was no physical contact, he felt as though Taehyung was indirectly pushing him along the wall as they walked on. Cornering him. His facial expression remained the same, unchanged. Taehyung parted his lips.

“Do you feel sorry? For your uncle, I mean.”

His words sent an electric jolt through Jungkook’s body. He flinched, looking up at the demon butler with widened eyes and trembling lips. Taehyung returned his stare with a blank one, tilting his head almost in confusion at Jungkook’s reaction. The sick feeling returned to his stomach.

“He was a rather boring man,” Taehyung went on obliviously.

_“Oh, Sir!” Jungkook forced himself to say in a tone of astonishment. “What’s wrong? Was there something wrong with the soup?”_

_Eventually, Godwin gave no answer, but gave one last shriek before he slumped lifelessly onto the table, his face falling into the bowl of soup._

Jungkook felt light-headed. His face flushed and his head throbbed, sweat accumulating all over his body. He didn’t want to remember. He swallowed back saliva, trying to keep a calm demeanour. _Yes_. _Let’s buy this damn meat already. _But as soon as the word ‘meat’ crossed his mind, the urge to vomit increased all the more.

“You’re a criminal, Jungkook.”

_Stop…_

“When the police find out about all the murders you committed, you’re going to die.”

_Stop…!_

“But that’s fine.”

They just turned the corner into the alleyway. Jungkook glanced back up at Taehyung, body shaking. Taehyung stared piercingly into his eyes, unmoving, his face dangerously close to his. Jungkook glanced to the side, and in a moment of slow thought processing, realised that there was no butchery down the alleyway.

_Trap._

Jungkook thought apprehensively.

_This is a trap._

Jungkook felt his legs give in from underneath his body, and in a heartbeat, he was slumped on the ground against the brick wall with Taehyung kneeling over him. He was met by the demon’s merciless gaze, one filled with fascinated hunger and bloodlust. He squirmed, trying to break free from the demon’s reach, but only succeeded in making Taehyung grip his arms viciously, digging his fingers into his skin with unbelievable strength. Jungkook gave a breathy cry, tears stinging his eyes as Taehyung tilted his face towards his.

_No!_

“I can’t hold myself back anymore,” Taehyung confessed, his voice layered with strain. He shoved the boy to the ground, nails piercing into his shoulders, which earned another gasp of pain from Jungkook. He noticed Taehyung’s fangs show as he added lowly. “I have to eat—”

Suddenly, Taehyung paused. The fierce look of hunger died from his blood-red eyes. He turned his head to the side, glaring intensely down the alley, like a deer which had heard a rustle in the bushes. There was a momentary silence. Taehyung’s fingers snaked around Jungkook’s neck, but his eyes remained fixated on the area ahead.

Taehyung hissed, “You.”

A figure emerged from the shade. A tall man in a grey suit, Jungkook observed, with deep green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses. According to Jin’s description, a grim reaper. But unlike the significant point of his description, this grim reaper didn’t have a death scythe. He looked calm and composed, with a look of purpose. And the more Jungkook stared at this newcomer, the more he began to familiarise himself with the reaper’s appearance.

He didn’t know any grim reapers, though.

Taehyung rose to his feet, wiping away saliva from his bottom lip and chin, an entirely different expression on his face that Jungkook failed to comprehend. There was something excited or interested about his eyes, which glimmered similarly to those of a predator watching its prey. The demon and the reaper held eye-contact for what felt like an intense span of ten seconds to Jungkook. He figured this would be his chance to escape, but the present fear instilled in his body temporarily paralysed his legs. He watched as Taehyung clicked his tongue and began to remove his glove.

“Well,” Taehyung growled. “It seems like someone hasn’t learned their lesson from last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the reaaalllllyy slow update. I started writing this while I was still very much involved in both BTS and Black Butler, but I'm not as involved in both fandoms at the moment, and now I'm not too motivated to update regularly. But I'm really happy with what I've written so far, and I'm definitely going to continue! Only that updates are going to be less frequent. I'm so sorry for those of you who really enjoy it >_<
> 
> Also thank you, readers! Your comments were very nice, and I'd love to hear more feedback ;)
> 
> And can we acknowledge the godliness of Map of the Soul: 7???? R E S P E C T. Black Swan especially. 
> 
> I hope you look forward to the rest of this story. Thank you! :)
> 
> \- Foxstanza


End file.
